


An exercise in despair

by amuk



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, F/M, Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Loss of Identity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 16:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5213672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bit by bit, she could feel herself losing hope.--Korra and the missing years</p>
            </blockquote>





	An exercise in despair

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Nov 12 // The art of losing. The art of leaving. The art of rejection.
> 
> A/N: Ahahah, I wanted to write something for this fandom for so long. I’ll probably write a few more pieces later. Anyways, this takes place during the skip between seasons 3 and 4.

Her knife sliced her hair cleanly, the thick clumps falling off her and into the water. A few moments of sinking and they vanished, swallowed up (and she knew drowning, knew the water entering her lungs and the desperate claw for air, for life, for anything).

 

Eyeing her reflection, she stared at the short hair. Her short, uneven, unruly hair.

 

Already, she missed the length of her old hair, the way it tickled her neck, the weight of it.

 

Then again, she had already given up everything else about her past. What was one more thing?

 

-x-

 

“Mail’s here,” one of the dorm mates yelled. A bag of letters plopped on the kitchen table and a dozen hands were already reaching out to search. “Guys, don’t tear them up!”

 

Korra cracked a smile, reaching into the pile herself.

 

Asami liked to send Korra letters. Handwritten, in elegant cursive, they smelled of perfume and motor oil.  Her own writing was a mess in comparison, her impatience in all things making her hurry her words as though it were a race. She was surprised Asami could even read her words sometimes.

 

 _It’s fine_ , Asami had mentioned. _It’s just like you, always in a rush._

 

_Not always._

_Most of the time,_ Asami amended. _Besides, it’s really easy to picture you speaking when I read them._

 

“That’s all!” the dorm mate yelled, clearing the table of hands.

 

Her hands remained empty and she tried not to clench them.

 

-x-

 

She dreamed sometime of before. In the night, in the darkness of the new moon, she would allow herself to remember and mourn.

 

It was the hardest when she felt a chill in the air, her hands instinctively reaching out for a warm, furry body. Naga only made the softest of sounds at night, a soft whimper or whine depending on her dreams. Even when Korra shifted on her, leaving her imprint on the fur as she tossed and turned, she merely panted and gave her a rough bump to calm her movements.

 

Korra could almost smell her warm breath, the mix of fish and meat. A howl emerges in the distance and she refrained the urge to howl back.

 

-x-

 

“Have you ever been in love?” One of the fighters asked, looking for gossip. They’re bandaging their wounds, the fights today were hard.

 

None more than Korra’s and she was still in pain from her fights. Just what was she doing here? Just what was she trying to do? She’d been here for a year and still there was no progress, no change.

 

(And still she dreamed, she dreamed of water and chains, of dying and dying and dying and how could she be the avatar when she lost it all? She couldn’t hear Aang anymore, couldn’t hear the voices to guide her.

 

For once, she was alone, just herself.)

 

“Nah, who’s got time for that?” Another fighter responded, grinning broadly. “Maybe after I get the top prize.”

 

“Like you’ll be able to do that!” The first rolled her eyes, turning to Korra. “What about you?”

 

“Once,” Korra answered. _Twice_ ,she almost corrected, but she didn’t know the truth in the second one. She had left too early, too quickly. A letter still sat heavily in her bag but she didn’t have the courage to read it.

 

“Ooohh, how was it?”

 

“It was…”  Korra stumbled, at a loss for words. How should she sum up her first love, her first breakup, her _first_.

 

Korra could remember the break up in crystal clarity, remember the exact slope of Mako’s face as they hugged that last time. She had traced it a thousand times in the water, the angles of his eyes as he tried to fight back the tears.

 

They were an exercise in heartbreak, she could say, but that wasn’t the only truth.

 

A part of her would always love his eyes, that spark he would get when he had an idea.  And his kisses, his kisses were always hungry, always wanting _more_. Hers were probably the same. So much fire, so much passion, and maybe that was the problem. They never did sit down to just talk.

 

Korra smiled bitterly. “It was something.”

 

-x-

 

(And she would never be able to admit this, to say this, but Korra remembered all too well talking to Asami back then.  The heartbreak in her eyes, the bitterness in her expression—Korra had never realized just what it meant to break the two apart, to break them like this.

 

 _I never meant to hurt you like this_ , she almost said. For all her anger and jealousy toward Asami at the beginning, she never understood just what her actions would do.

 

But her words meant nothing and she held them in. They couldn’t change what happened.)

 

-x-

 

In her mind, Korra had written a hundred unsent letters.

 

_Dear Asami,_

_Long time no write, huh? I kinda ran away from home and now I’m making it as a big time wrestler. Well, not big time yet but_

_Dear Asami,_

_Sorry for not writing sooner. I just had to leave home, leave everything behind. I needed a fresh start, somewhere I could test myself. Be myself. After everything that happened, you understand, right?_

_Dear Asami,_

_I don’t think I have what it takes to be the Avatar. I keep trying but I keep failing and I don’t know why. Avatar’s aren’t supposed to be like this, I’m not supposed to be like this. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t_

_Dear Asami_

_I miss you_

 

-x-

 

A demon followed her sometimes, a nightmare made flesh. The others couldn’t see this dark figure that stared at her from alleys and dark shadows. Its eyes would glow, a dark smile painted on its lips.

 

 _Come and fight me_ , it demanded in a voiceless sneer.

 

She trembled, afraid. A soundless scream escaped her throat and she didn’t know why. She was never afraid, she was Korra, she was the avatar, she was—the water bubble was around her head again, her voice cut off, no one could hear her, no one would want to.

 

“Tenzin!” Unexpectedly, she cried his name.

 

But he wasn’t here either, wasn’t here to comfort her like he did in the temple so long ago. Her body curled onto his lap, his hand stroking her head, his presence soothing and calm. _You’re fine_ , he promised, _you’ll be fine._

 

 _But I’m not_ , she wanted to tell him. _Please help, I can’t face this alone._

 

The demon came closer, a chain rattling in the distance.

 

-x-

 

There was one lie she told herself constantly. There was nothing she could have done to change what happened. Nothing.

 

It was a belief she clung to like a security blanket. She couldn’t deal with another failure.

 

-x-

 

The demon unmasked itself one day, in the pale moonlight. Korra stared at its face, at the reflection in the mirror, and crumpled to the floor.

 

Everything she had done, everything she was trying to do, it was pointless. Hopeless. There was no fixing this, no changing, no coming back better than ever. There was only surviving, just living and barely making it and that would have to be enough.

 

The demon was herself, after all. And there was no running, no escaping, that could let her break free from that.


End file.
